On The Wings of Revolution
by Noble Maiden
Summary: Michiru & Haruka-> Rapunzel style! this is my adaptation of the fairytale. Please read it and tell me what you think. I hope you all love it!


~*~ Yay! My second fic is up and running already! This is quite surprising since I am hideously lethargic when it comes to typing things on the computer... Well, this is sort of an abstract work that I had wanted to write for quite some time now. I always wanted to take a cute, pleasant fairytale and corrupt the hell out of it! *Grins * Rapunzel seemed like a good enough choice, so I just took the general idea of the story, added some violence, rape, a lesbian couple and viola! Actually, in all honesty I felt the desire to write a story that reflected my need to be saved. Prior to the compilation of this fic, I was in a relationship with a guy that was absolutely stifling. He didn't know me at all- he never looked past the surface to try and know the real me, while at the same time stifling me with his tenacious possessiveness. I hated him, the whole relationship, and myself as well; but still somehow I could not break free. Then my Haruka came along, and just like a heroic prince, she saved me. She stripped away the layers of masks that I wore and taught me how to love. This was the inspiration that led me to write this fan fiction. Since Haruka & Michiru are my fave. couple, I decided to make them the main characters. Wow, I just completely rambled and gushed for an entire paragraph! Gomen, gomen... Well, I hope that everyone likes this story. Please tell me what you think, k? Katie, this is for you...~*~  
  
On The Wings of Revolution  
  
I am in a prison. I cannot get out. The cold, smooth, tower wall against my rested palm assures me of this. It's hard to breathe. The solitary window allows a soft breeze to flow in. As it kisses the nape of my neck I press my forehead against the marble wall and shut my eyes. My hair has grown long, so very long. He likes it this way. Someday I will hang myself with it. Someday when there is no hope left. Someday, but not today.  
  
It didn't use to be this way. I wasn't always drowning. I lived with my family in a vast forest, surrounded by memories and solitude. The wilderness grew in my spirit then. My teal hair was forever tousled and intertwined with leaves. My feet, barefoot and calloused. I rode my horse barebacked on secret trails, feasting on the earth's bounty of roots and berries. My mother and father were quiet, hardworking. I like to think that once they loved me. It was my home, and I was pleased. Then one day He came. He appeared on our doorstep seeking hospitality. He told us he was a sorcerer, returning from his travels, now on his way home. My family welcomed him into our house where he stayed for several days. I never went near him. There was something I saw in his soul that repulsed me. I hated him even then, before he ever touched me. I cringed whenever his eyes met mine. In my heart, I somehow instinctively knew what would happen. Then one day, my fears became a reality. He asked my parents if he could take me home with him. He told them he could offer me a better life than they- he claimed he loved me. But I knew better. I was not so unlearned of the world that I would be taken in with such atrocious lies. Men are always saying things like that to women. At first my parents said 'no' to the barbarian, and I thought for a moment that I might yet be saved. But then he offered my parents money, and they hesitated. He sensed the weakness in them, and seized it fiercely.  
  
He laid three bags of gold on the crumbling wood table and promised three more when we reached his domain. My family stared at the bags, and turned to face me. When I saw the look in their eyes, I knew I was lost. The wind howled in my ears as I cursed the day I had lived to witness this betrayal. He led me away that very day; probably for fear that if we waited a fortnight I would run from him. Had my mind been with me, I most likely would have torn asunder from his fierce grasp and ran deep into the forest. I could have been happy living there, alone. In time I might have learned the language of the trees, and the way to speak to the bubbling brook. But I died that day, and the initial shock of it kept me from resisting. I wish I could tell you that I forgave my parents for what they did. I wish I could say that I understood how money meant survival for poor people like us and that I prayed for their happiness. But I didn't. Flames of contempt coursed through my brain. I hated them. I felt its dark, hot flame engulf me. I wonder how they are doing now. I hope they see me in their nightmares. I hope it makes them sick.   
  
We traveled for days, I cannot remember how many, until at last we reached his home. It was a large castle, dark and morbid, with a single solitary tower in the northeast corner. With the exception of the tower, all the windows had bars on them. I wondered how many other women had been brought here before me. As soon as we crossed the threshold and the huge doors shut behind us, he bound my wrists with chains. Something in my soul snapped and I immediately grasped the enormity of my situation. I screamed. It was shrill and piercing, like how a young bird would sound as it was being slaughtered for sacrifice. He struck me hard across the mouth, sending me reeling against the cold floor. I could hear him breathing heavily as he knelt down beside me. Still I screamed on and on. He hit me again, this time much harder, enough to silence me for a moment as he tore at my clothes. I clenched my eyes shut, trying to block out the throbbing pain in my head. His huge hand began roughly grabbing my breasts and I flashed open my eyes in horror to see him shedding his own clothes. He pried apart my legs and cruelly thrust his hard member inside me. Being docile was not an option. I fought him the whole way. He held me down with his unexpectedly strong limbs as he broke me in two with his incessant pushing. He was so huge inside me that I thought I was being split open. I tore at him as best I could while he beat me with his fists. In the end, I think he bled as much as I. I felt that the sheer pain would kill me outright. It didn't. No one was there to save me that day. I was quite alone.  
  
Finally, he gasped and shuddered, then pulled himself away leaving me lying in a pool of my own blood and revulsion. The hatred I bore for him was instantaneously turned to myself. I raised a wrist to my already bruised mouth in an attempt to bite through my veins. "None of that!" he roared, and he took my arm and drug me across the hallway, down a long flight of stairs. He put me in a dungeon that day, that first day of my imprisonment. It was dark, wet, and covered in filth. I was left alone during the day, shackled to the floor, the chains covering my wrists, leaving me unable to bring about suicide. I screamed during that time, screamed until my throat was raw and bloody. I screamed until the walls of my cell rang with the vibrations of my perpetual misery. I was kept down there for weeks. He came to me only at night, but every night there he was. He forced himself on me there in the dank filth, the darkness covering his grievous acts. It never bothered him to take me this way. I died every evening, and in the morning some unforgiving god restored me so that I could once again be mutilated and murdered the next night. Over and over and over again. This is my hell.  
  
After awhile, I stopped screaming. I stopped speaking altogether. I fell back within myself, where it was warm, clouded over, and safe. This frightened him. My resistance he could handle, but not this kind of submissive retreat. He must have realized then that I would simply fade away if he did not figure out a new way to keep me captive. So he took off my chains, brought me out of the dungeon, and placed me in the tower. There were no bars in the window, for it was so high up escape seemed impossible. I wouldn't have run away anyway. Where would I have gone? I hadn't even the strength to climb out and jump. So I stayed; a silent, frozen doll, with a forgotten past, a tortured present and a nonexistent future. The tower was a sharp contrast to my previous abode. He lavishly decorated the room with material extravagances; paintings, antique furniture, exotic perfumes, satin curtains, and beautiful gowns. He brought me only the richest of foods, and every day spread rose petals on my bed, but still I never changed. I remained silent, a perpetual statue of flesh.  
  
That is how I came to be in this place, rotting away. He doesn't take me by force any longer. He tells me that the next time he couples with me will be when I ask for it. I suppose he really doesn't understand me after all. For it will never come to that. It is hard to understand reality now. Everything seems hazy, and it is difficult to remember the world outside of my imprisonment. Something is keeping me alive, although I know not what. I am floating in an amniotic fluid of my own creation, its components being the decay of my psyche and the small flame of hope. I do not know where it comes from but still it sings on in my heart, its melody bittersweet. I pull away from the wall where I have rested my head and gaze out the window. This is what I do-I watch. I imagine most people in my situation would probably long to feel the grass beneath their feet. Most would yearn to run, jump, to sing again. I do not ponder over these things at all. I do not hang out of the window, weeping and wailing for all that which I have lost. I simply observe the earth from my iron cage. I watch the landscape change, as I can never change. I envy the way the seasons flow into one another, while I am stuck. Perhaps I should give up...  
  
But no, today is different. Today is the turning of the tide. Today is the day I will be reborn...  
  
On the pale horizon a rider appears on a silver horse. I have not seen another human with the exception of Him since I came here, so it virtually astounds me to behold this sight. The horse rider is coming up fast now, and soon he is below my tower. There are no gaurds outside, since the isolation of the castle provides security enough. I know the rider is gazing up at me, even though I cannot see his face. All I can see is the sword hanging by his side and his cape flowing behind him. Why is he here? How did he know I was here? I feel something stir in my chest and realize it is my heart beating furiously. He wants to come up, and I know that he must for I understand somehow that this person is to be the catalyst, which will initialize a transformation.  
  
Glancing around the room I realize with sudden clarity that there is nothing for him to use to scale the wall. Frantic now, I discover the bed sheets are not long enough, the curtains are not long enough, NOTHING is long enough. I need to meet this person more than anything- but there is nothing... In actuality there is something long enough. My fingers graze across my sea colored hair, today wrapped in a single braid. It has grown so much since I've been here. Where once I thought to eventually use this gift to help bring about my end, it seems I shall instead use it to bring to me a new beginning. I gather it up in my arms, turn my back to the window, and fling my braid behind me sending it unraveling in the sky.  
  
I wait a moment, then feel a gentle tugging at the base of my scalp. My head tilts back reflexively as pressure is applied at the bottom of the tower. He is climbing up now. My breath catches in my throat with a flush of...anticipation? I feel him getting closer and closer. I wonder what kind of person he is. I wonder why he is coming to me, what brought him here. I have no time to contemplate, for he is now right behind me. I feel his warm breath on the back of my neck. It startles me, and giving a little gasp I step forward into the room and turn to face him.  
  
I am shocked. My head fills with static. What is this? There is a woman sitting on my window ledge. Her hair is cropped short, and she looks strong-but she is a woman nonetheless. How can this be? For a moment I am stunned. Then a voice in my heart tells me that this is what I've wanted all along. This woman is what I've been waiting for. It's different from what I expected, and it almost feels that I am revolting against all that I had previously known or been taught. But on the wings of revolution, salvation may be found.  
  
I look at her and she smiles. Truly she is the most beautiful thing I have ever laid eyes on. Her eyes are sapphires, containing all the softness of the rolling sky. Her hair is pouring water, a heavenly elixir dripping from the sun. Her ivory skin looks so lovely, like crumbling rose petals, and I am driven breathless by the need to touch her. She is a prince, but a princess as well.  
  
Slowly she walks toward me. I want to tell her how gorgeous she is. I want to tell her how crazy it is to feel the way I do. I want to thank her for coming to me-but when I open my mouth to speak nothing comes out. I have forgotten how to talk. My voice, my words...they have deserted me. Full of shame I sink to my knees, bury my face in my hands, and sob. I am nothing after all. I feel my prince's arms envelop around me. She smells like a waterfall-clear and refreshing. She leans down to me and whispers in my ear, "Everyone has aspects of themselves they want to keep from the people they love. All have dark taints in their pasts that keep them from fully appreciating the present. But," she said leaning closer, "that does not mean we cannot somehow embrace the future together. Don't be afraid of yourself. Show me all of you, my love." She kisses my forehead.  
  
I am filled with exploding light. From the ashes of my dead soul I rise up, taking the flaming wings of the phoenix. I am renewed, restored. I remember how to speak, how to laugh, how to sing. Everything is bright, everything is color. Was the world always this beautiful? No. Only with her birth did the world reach such perfection. Within this ebb and flow of the tide of sentiment in my heart I discovered something about myself as well. In actuality, I don't need a prince to save me. Although I needed her help to realize it, I have strength within me to save myself. I can be my own prince. I tilt my head back as she leans in to kiss me. There is a salty sweetness on her lips, for she is crying with me. I feel her tongue gently brush against mine and I am spellbound by the sheer ecstasy of her presence. I want to bathe in her mystifying glow.   
  
After awhile we both become aware of the fact that he will be coming soon. Had this been a fairytale, my prince, she would have killed my captor and freed me. But this is my reality-and I write my own endings. I ask her to leave me her sword when she climbs back down the tower. She looks fearful, but leaves it with me anyway, promising to come back the following morning. I hide the sword in my bed sheets, strip off my clothes, and lie down.  
  
The afternoon waxes into twilight- and he comes. He stalks into my chamber like a stealthy predator preparing for a kill. He hesitates when he sees me lying there. It must surprise him, my nude body glistening in the tarnished rays of the setting sun. His astonishment changes abruptly to desire and he rushes over to my side. My face is flushed with what he believes is passion. I part my lips slightly and stretch my arms out toward him. He reaches forward, and I wait until our eyes lock before I plunge the sword into his chest. Cold steel meets flesh exquisitely as his face distorts with pain. I cherish the way his eyes glaze over; I treasure the way his breath grows still. No, I do not pity him. He is a sorcerer. He should have seen this coming. Blood is everywhere; it runs like a river over my hands and arms, breasts and stomach, resurrecting me. A few drops spill upon my lips. They are sweet like honeyed wine. As he falls to the floor, his life force spreading beneath him, I grab him by the neck and pull him close to me murmuring, "You can never own me. You will never break me." He slumps over.  
  
Like a Valkyrie berserker, I thrust and hack with the sword long after I know he's dead. It is satisfying to denounce him in this way. The frenzy deserts me eventually and I drop the sword from my hand to go wash his putrid essence from my body. I sit by the window and wait for dawn to come.  
  
With the rising of the sun she rides to me, my glorious love. When she reaches my tower and sees the gory aftermath she remains expressionless, then folds her arms around me in a loving embrace. We take hands and leave the castle, the cage, the prison. The wind in my hair is electrifying. The sun in my face is divine. As we approach her horse and climb on, she squeezes my waist gently and whispers, "You made it." We ride off, and the immaculate sky smiles down at us. I do not know what is going to become of me, where my destiny lies. All I know is the warmth of her body against mine, the crystals in her eyes, the delight of her laugh. But... which of us is the Princess and which is the Prince?  
  
Does it matter? This is what it is to be alive.  
  
~*~ 


End file.
